


I May Return

by Highlander_II



Category: Law & Order
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode Related, Episode: s06e23 Aftershock, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, POV Alternating, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take on the events at the end of "Aftershock".</p><p>Claire wasn't killed in the car accident and Jack may not be prepared to learn the truth behind the car accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/gifts).



I remember the first day I walked into his office. I probably should have re-thought my approach, but I didn't want him to start off our working relationship by hitting on me. I'd heard the rumors – some of which weren't rumors. I do wonder, sometimes, if I had let him hit on me there at the beginning, if our relationship might not have ever evolved.

He was quite subtle in his seduction. It took a while before I realized what he had done, the sonofabitch.

Anyway – first impressions and all of that. Actually, my first impression of Jack McCoy was rather impressive. He was in court, giving a closing argument. It was the most riveting thing I'd heard in a live court room. The man has a presence. It makes him both trustworthy and intimidating as hell.

I don't remember the outcome of the trial, but I remember wanting to emulate his confidence. He's an amazing attorney. He wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't. We may not have always agreed on procedures and trial strategies, but we did typically agree on the need for justice.

I've kept track of his career as much as I could since I left. That's right – I left. I hate that everyone thinks I was killed in that accident. I'd rather not get into it, but, let's just say, I was a witness to something someone would have preferred I not see and I wasn't hit by a random drunk driver. My car was deliberately targeted by someone trying to make sure I wasn't around to point out their illegal activity.

Long-story short: closed trial, conviction, execution (not getting into my feelings on that here), and I'm free to return to 'my old life'.

The problem with that is, I'm not sure what there is of my 'old life' after fifteen years. The man who was my boss (McCoy) is now the DA. The man who was the DA when I left, retired several years ago and three others filled his shoes before McCoy took over.

I will admit, I was surprised when McCoy decided to actually run. He has never been particularly politically motivated – not in a way that would make anyone think he would want to be elected to the DA's office. It's a job I'm sure he can do, but not one I would figure he would actively pursue.

Beyond that, Lennie Briscoe and Rey Curtis both left the precinct. I think I even heard somewhere that Lennie had passed away.

Like I said – apparently a lot has changed since that night fifteen years ago. I can handle that. I'm sure things about me have changed too.

The one thing that I'm a little nervous about is Jack. He and I were sort of involved. Things were just getting started – getting good, even – when the 'accident' happened.

I think that was the hardest part of entering WITSEC – leaving Jack behind. I didn't even have a chance to tell him good-bye. Do you know what _that's_ like?

I'm on a plane back to New York now and I'm not afraid to admit that I'm almost terrified to walk back into the DA's office. Most of the people may not even recognize me. That's not what bothers me. Jack is. I have no idea how he'll react.

On the one hand, it seems cruel to turn his world up-side down. He's had fifteen years to come to terms with me being gone. And if he's moved on, I don't want to disrupt that. On the other hand, I don't want him to find out from anyone else. I want to tell him myself.

And then I'll probably break down.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him. No time to dwell on that now, my car is here.

* * *

Centre Street hasn't changed much, I notice as we drive through town. Maybe I asked the driver to take a less-than-straight route over to West 125th. Once I get my nerves under control, I have him take me to the DA's office. Security is a little tighter than before – a direct result of the terrorist actions ten or so years ago, I suspect. The Marshals must have reactivated my file, since no one has stopped me for trying to impersonate a deceased ADA.

As I ride up in the old cranky, familiar, elevator, I think I should have called ahead. Let Jack know I was coming. I lost my nerve before I finished the security screening. I could still turn around and go back, but the elevator doors open and the smell of the office is so familiar and overwhelming that my feet almost won't move.

I'm hoping Jack's assistant will be a bit of a buffer, since I know I can't just waltz into the DA's office. Okay, that option's gone since Jack is standing by his assistant's desk. He looks up and his face loses all color.

It takes me a minute to get my thoughts in order, but I manage a soft, "Hi, Jack."


	2. Chapter 2

He's lucky the door was open already or he would have walked into it. What the hell was going on? Dead people aren't supposed to show up in your office. He backs into the office, waving the woman in with him. She follows and closes the door.

Jack has to lean against his desk and bend at the waist to collect his breath. This isn't possible. And if he's not having a coronary, he's sure he's hallucinating.

She's standing quietly by the door like she isn't sure what to say. He can only assume it's because she's nervous as hell. If she's even really there.

He returns to an upright posture. She's still there, he's not seeing things. He shakes his head. "What-?" He's sure he meant for there to be more to that.

"WITSEC," she says, followed by, "I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't want you to find out from anyone else."

His air is starting to come a little easier. The headache that's been creeping up all day, however, is gaining ground. Another deep breath and he thinks he might be able to talk to her now.

The problem is, he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she repeats. "Would you rather I go?"

His first instinct is to curl his arms around her until he can devise a plan to make sure she never leaves again. Instead, he gives another shake of his head. "No. Please stay." He sees her relax; it helps him relax. "Claire," his voice breaks.

She steps closer and presses a hand to the side of his face. She's warm. Warmer than he remembers. His eyes close and he wants to freeze this moment.

"We all thought you were-"

"I know," she whispers before he can finish. "Do you want me to explain?" she asks softly.

Jack gives another negative shake of his head, partly a response and partly to feel more of her hand on his skin. "No." He knows what he wants. He blinks up at her, then, with his hands on either side of her delicate face, draws her in for a long, hungry kiss.

He has missed her. Has never been able to put her fully out of his mind. There's still a mug on his credenza that belonged to her. He keeps a designer pen she had given him in it as a decoration. No one has ever dared remove that mug. At home, he still has the dish she had brought some chocolate dessert over in. The dish is clean, sitting on the table with flowers floating in it. And he'll have words with anyone who tells him it's stupid.

Her mouth tastes almost the same as he remembers. It's been better than fifteen years, if everything was exactly the same, he would think it an elaborate and unfunny hoax. His stomach lurches until she folds her arms around his shoulders. The lurching doesn't stop, but now it's from excitement rather than fear.

She's as beautiful as ever – the years have been far kinder to her than to himself, he thinks. And he wants nothing more than to take her home and find out how much else is the same.

There's wetness on his cheeks when he pulls away. He can't determine if the tears are his or hers. In the end, it doesn't much matter, because she's standing before him – alive.

"My God, Jack," she breathes against his mouth, "I've missed you."

He damn near falls to his knees. There are a hundred things he thinks he should say, but none of them feel appropriate. The only thing that tumbles out is: "Don't leave again."

A little laugh escapes and she smiles at him. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack."

He folds her into his arms, his face buried against her shoulder, and just holds her. He needs to feel her in his arms. To know that she's not going to fade into nothingness.

There's a lot they need to talk about. There's so much he wants to share with her. Right now, it's all too overwhelming, so he pushes it aside.

His mind won't stop racing, so he misses the light knock at the door before Connie, one of the ADAs, opens the door. "Jack," she stops just inside the office. "I'm sorry to interrupt..."

Jack takes a deep breath and sighs. He leans away from Claire. "It's all right, Connie." He looks at the ADA. "The SVU Bureau Chief's briefing?"

Connie gives him a half-smile. "Yeah. Sorry."

"I'll be there in a minute," he says and breathes a sigh of relief when Connie nods and pulls the door closed as she steps out.

"New SVU Bureau Chief?" Claire guesses.

Jack nods. "Michael Cutter. Used to have my old job."

"Nice." She's quiet for a minute, then asks, "Need someone to fill my old job?"

That makes Jack laugh. "We just might." A soft sigh. "I have to go to this briefing, but you're welcome to have a seat here until I get back." He feels his heart clench at the possibility that she might not be here when he returns, but he doesn't want to think about it.

"That all depends on how long you're going to be," she tells him.

"Probably a good hour."

Claire smiles at him, like she knows this has to be a combination of scary and difficult. "Tell you what - I'm starving, so I'll go grab something to eat and be back around five."

He really couldn't expect her to sit around his office for a couple hours. "Deal." He writes a number on a sticky-note and hands it to her. "Call me if you need anything before then."

"Okay." He can tell she's confused, but he can't let her leave without a way to contact him. Especially if there is any possibility she might not return. "See you around five," she tells him and slips out of the office, a hand brushing his arm as she goes.

Jack takes a deep breath and waits two full minutes before he leaves for the briefing – with a quick pit-stop at the men's room on the way.


	3. Chapter 3

I know I told Jack I was hungry, but now I'm not sure I can eat. That was more intense than my original interview for the ADA job all those years ago. I've really missed him more than I thought. I almost hugged him as soon as we stepped into his office. And after he kissed me? I nearly shoved him down on the desk.

I think he's still wrapping his head around the fact that I'm alive. Which is pretty much what I expected. What I didn't expect was all of the feelings all rushing back all at once.

My favorite coffee shop has since become a sushi bar, so I settle for an almost kitschy place that smells like real coffee. I get hot tea and a pastry. If nothing else, maybe I can figure out what to do next.

We can't pick up where we left off – too much time has passed. But if we can get reacquainted and try again, that might work out.

As for a job? I haven't practiced in fifteen years and haven't kept up with the changes in laws. All of that, though, was on purpose, to prevent accidentally falling into old habits that would violate WITSEC protocols. I can probably get back on track with the law with little trouble, but getting back in the court room groove might be harder.

That many years in another profession is a long time. You get used to it. I'm not saying I want to go back to working in a bank, but it wasn't a terrible job. I do miss the law though. I miss researching case law and going to trial. Maybe Jack can use me in the DA's office.

The elevator ride back to his office is less rattling than the first one. He's not back from his briefing yet, so I take a seat in the small reception area outside the office. His assistant is pleasant enough. Friendly. He offers me coffee and reading material. But he does seem a little confused when I ask for a recent copy of the Harvard Law Review.

I smile and thank him when he brings me a few issues. This should get me started. I read fast – an excellent skill for law school – so catching up shouldn't take me too long. As long as nothing major has changed. The last big change I had to contend with was the laws regarding capital punishment. Again – not getting into it.

I'm three-quarters of the way through the first copy of the Law Review when Jack returns. He actually looks relieved to see me sitting here. Did he think I wouldn't come back?

He asks his assistant to hold all calls for the remainder of the day, then ushers me back into his office. We sit on the leather couch. He's quiet for a long moment. Then he smiles.

It takes me a minute to realize I still have the Law Review journals in my hand.

"Getting caught up?" he asks me, definitely approving of my choice of reading material.

"Trying," I tell him. "I'm a few years out of date."

He's quiet again. Then, "What are you going to do, Claire?"

I love the way he says my name. I almost miss the question. I give a soft shake of my head. "I'm really not sure. I just got into town. I need to get myself settled and do some thinking."

Jack nods. "Of course. Is there anyone else you wanted to stop by and see tonight?"

I can tell he's trying not to look overly eager about spending time with me. Except, I'm absolutely fine spending time with him. "No, no one that can't wait until tomorrow." And, I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but it makes some kind of sense in my head: "What do you say to ordering some take-out and watching old movies and catching up?"

I swear his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes him less than a minute to check his calendar on his phone. The Bureau Chief briefing was his last important appointment. He calls to his assistant who obediently pokes his head in the door with a 'Yes, Mr. McCoy?' Jack asks him to clear anything on his schedule for the evening and says he's leaving for the day.

"Come on. I know a great place to get Chinese," he says, rising to his feet and extending a hand to Claire.

He knows he probably shouldn't, but he lets her order whatever she wants. Even if he's sure they will never eat it all. He doesn't care. Indulging her is making him happy. He even stops to buy a half-gallon of ice cream on the way. Granted, balancing everything on the bike is a bit of a challenge, but he hadn't planned for a house-guest when he left for work that morning.

Jack lets her into his apartment and gives her _carte blanche_ to look around. He's sure he hasn't changed much about the place since the last time she was here. Maybe the couch and one of the easy chairs is new, but he's a man of old habits and has no need to make decorating decisions on any regular basis.

The food gets set out on the kitchen counter, the ice cream, put in the freezer for now. He would pour wine, but he doesn't have anything that goes well with Moo Shu pork, so, they are left with beer. Claire doesn't seem to mind.

He asks which movie she wants to watch and she says she doesn't care, she only wants it on for the noise. _Casablanca_ is in the DVD player, so he lets that run while they sit on the couch and dig into their dinner.

"So, congratulations on the election to the DA's office," she says, catching a lo mein noodle with her chopsticks.

"Thanks," he returns. 

Her brows knit together. "What's that about anyway? I thought you hated politics."

He offers a shrug. "When Branch left, I got nominated to fill in until the election." He crunches into an egg roll. 'Clears his mouth before he continues, "Turns out, I kind of enjoy it."

"Seriously?" Claire asks. This time her eyebrows creep up her forehead.

Another shrug. "What can I say, a lot has changed."

"Not as much as you'd think," she returns with a smile and a glance around his living room.

Jack laughs and takes a sip from his beer. "Oh, you haven't seen the dungeon I had installed in the bedroom."

Claire smirks at him. "Don't you know you shouldn't mix business with pleasure, Jack?"

He finds that a lot funnier than he thinks he should. But it doesn't make him uncomfortable. He's enjoying spending time with Claire – talking to her, listening to her, watching her eat. He almost wants to lean into the side of the couch and just study her.

"Well, they wouldn't let me install the gas chamber, so..." He catches her blinking at him. It takes a second for what he said to sink in. "Wow," he rubs his fingers against his temple, "that – bad timing."

"No. It's okay. I – I haven't thought about that day in years."

"Same here." Suddenly his chest is tight again. He's hoping the evening isn't over because he very ably put his foot in his mouth. "You okay?" he finally asks and makes a mental note to leave death penalty jokes off the repertoire.

Claire nods. "Yeah. Just suddenly taken back in time fifteen years."

"At least you didn't end up standing naked in mock court," he offers a bit of levity.

She laughs and he knows they're back on track. "I cannot believe I told you about that dream. What was I thinking?" And her cheeks tinge pink. He likes that look on her.

Jack smiles at her over his beer. "Don't tell me if you don't want me to remember."

"Yeah, right." She shakes her head and curls up on the couch, her shoes abandoned beneath the coffee table. She looks comfortable. Relaxed.

They ease into a conversation that starts getting them caught up on each other's lives over the last several years. Claire can't talk about a lot of hers, but she gives some vague bullet points, while prodding Jack to open up and tell her what's been going on in the DA's office.

It's after midnight before Claire starts yawning. Jack offers to drive her home, but she decides to call for a car instead, since they've been drinking and pairing even the small amount of alcohol they've had with driving makes her nervous.

They linger by the door waiting for Claire's ride. Before he loses his nerve, Jack kisses her again. This time it's softer, sweeter, lingering. He sifts one hand into her hair and circles her waist with the other. The way her body melds into his makes him wish he could take her back upstairs.

A dark town car pulling up to the curb interrupts their quiet moment and Claire pulls away first. She thanks him for dinner and presses a quick peck to his lips.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Jack," she tells him as she steps away toward the car.

He thinks he can make it to tomorrow with a promise like that.


End file.
